


Study Buddies

by Lovedmoviesb



Series: The Famous Rick Grimes [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 90s AU, F/M, High School AU, Richonne - Freeform, baseball AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovedmoviesb/pseuds/Lovedmoviesb
Summary: Rick struggles through advanced classes at the start of their Senior Year. Michonne lends a hand.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne
Series: The Famous Rick Grimes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1502060
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Study Buddies

**Author's Note:**

> Blame the amount of High School teen dramas I watched on Netflix this week for this.

"All right, listen up." Mr. Horvath demanded the attention of his class in his familiar way, his gruff voice straining to be heard over the chatter. "This isn't your lunch period, folks, this is AP History. And if you want to pass, I suggest you start paying attention."

The students settled one by one, eyes forward, pens down. Michonne didn't dare pass notes under Horvath's watchful gaze, though she was dying to throw a note at Sasha. The reason for the commotion had run in 10 seconds before the bell, sliding across the cheap linoleum tile like he was heading for home base.

Rick Grimes— pitcher and captain of the North High Baseball team and King County's own rising star— was apparently taking honor's classes now. He settled into an empty desk three seats away from Michonne. She snuck a peek at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Mr. Grimes, you may be able to get away with that on the baseball diamond, but here we take our hats off inside," Horvath glimpsed over the top of his folder at the boy in question.

"Sorry, sir," Rick snatched the ball cap off his head, smoothing down a mess of curls.

Michonne seized the excuse to watch, staring at the chestnut ringlets that hadn't seen scissors in months. She wondered for a moment why he hadn't gone to the barbers with the rest of the boys in their class, shearing their hair into back to school cuts.

She clearly wasn't the only one staring at Rick. Andrea caught her eye from a seat up, raising a brow. Even Sasha looked curiously at him before returning her attention to her notebook and doodling in the margins.

"I assume you all did your summer projects," Mr. Horvath continued. "We're jumping right in this year folks. There's a lot of ground to cover between you and the end of year tests. We'll spend a week reviewing Reconstruction, then we're plowing straight on to Clinton."

Horvath continued talking, but Michonne found her attention wandering again. Rick's face was creased as he listened, little wrinkles worrying at the corners of his eyes. She realized that they were startlingly blue, brighter than she could remember them ever being. Then again, Rick and her hadn't had classes together since middle school. She pointedly hadn't done much looking at him since then.

His hand crept up, tentatively moving inch by inch, attempting to draw their teacher's attention. Horvath continued on.

"There's going to be a whole quarter on the Cold War, so buckle up for that," he listed, still consulting the pages in his folder.

Rick waved his hand to no avail. Nearly everyone in the class was looking at the baseball player now. Michonne flushed when she saw his arm. He was bulkier than their classmates. Apparently, all that pitching had perks.

"Sir?" she spoke up, head snapping to the front.

Horvath paused, raising one graying eyebrow. "Miss Hawthorne," he allowed.

"I think Rick has a question," Michonne said helpfully. She turned her eyes back to Rick, offering him a smile.

He went pink around the ears immediately. "Uh sir," he cleared his throat, turning back to the teacher. "I didn't get the syllabus over the summer. I just transferred in a week ago and-"

"Then you have catching up to do," Horvath said, unconcerned. "I'd find a study buddy if I were you, Mr. Grimes."

Without further ado, he returned to the task at hand. Rick looked surprised, but fumbled in his bag for a pencil. He began taking notes at a furious pace, his knuckles growing white around the instrument.

An hour later in the hallway, Michonne and her friends gathered, eager to discuss this sudden turn of events in their senior year.

"A jock in AP," Andrea remarked, delighted. "Who'd have thought?"

"Zeke is in AP," Sasha pointed out flatly. She fidgeted inside of her locker, trading in the three history books they already had been assigned for a calculus workbook.

"Yeah, but Rick," Andrea was undaunted. "He's like...a jock jock."

"What does that even mean?" Sasha snorted, shaking her head.

"Michonne knows, right?" Andrea questioned. "He dates Barbie doll types. Like _Lori_." She dragged her rivals' name out like a swear word. "And Shane is his best friend."

"Is he?" Sasha indulged serenely, shooting Michonne a covert look.

Michonne hastily looked away, noticing Rick a few lockers up, pushing his books in with a dazed expression on his face.

"I wonder why he even bothered," Andrea continued. "Senior year all the sudden he wants to be a braniac?"

Michonne found her legs moving, her jelly flip flops smacking against the tile, the hem of her skirt fluttering around her thighs. She could hear Andrea and Sasha wondering faintly where she was going. Michonne wasn't entirely sure herself until she came to a stop at the locker of Rick Grimes.

"Hey," she said brightly, her voice loud in her own ears.

Rick looked around the door, eyes widening when he spotted her.

"Hey," he rumbled out, smoothing a hand through his wayward hair. "Good to see you, Michonne." He smiled.

"You saw me over the summer," she reminded him.

They'd seen plenty of one another from a distance. When Rick wasn't showing off at the lake, he was doling out popcorn over the counter at the movie theater. She wondered if he'd have time for either with advanced classes added to his already busy baseball schedule.

"Maybe not enough of you," Rick observed, his smile going crooked.

Michonne felt her own lips tug up, but quickly quelled it. "What'd you think of the class?" she asked.

Rick's grin slipped. "I think I have a lot of catching up to do." He sighed, thumbing at the spine of the AP History book.

"Why?" Michonne flinched when Rick's ears went pink again. "I don't mean it like that," she hastened to apologize. "I just mean, why jump in the very last year?"

"Colleges," Rick answered, shrugging. "I've got the sports thing down. I figured if I could get a few honors courses…" he broke off. "Took the tests over the summer, after I did pretty well on the SATs so I thought I could handle this." He raised his brows, blowing out a rough sigh.

"Well look," Michonne consoled, "Horvath is always tough, but you really aren't that far behind."

"Really?" Rick asked skeptically.

"Really." Michonne tugged her backpack off one shoulder and swung it around, struggling to get the zipper open.

"Here," Rick nudged his locker door over, reaching for Michonne's bag.

One broad hand brushed her bare forearm before steadying her. Michonne refused to acknowledge the chill that ran down her spine.

"Thanks," she muttered, fishing out a spiral notebook. She handed it to him.

"What's this?" Rick asked, accepting it only once she'd gotten her backpack closed and situated again.

"My notes from last year," Michonne swallowed. "Feel free to look at them. And if you ever have questions," she looked over her shoulder, pointing to where Andrea and Sasha were watching with poorly disguised interest. "My locker is right over there."

"Yeah?" Rick asked, something almost like hope in his voice.

"Yeah," Michonne nodded.

"I have AP English too," Rick mentioned sheepishly.

Michonne laughed. "Well, you missed a summer of poetry then."

"Great," Rick shook his head. "Shit."

"It's not so bad," Michonne said. "Better than that year they banned _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , anyway." She snapped out of her ire. "Mrs. Monroe is sweeter than Horvath. She'll give you a list."

"All right," Rick was looking at her now, much in the way she'd caught him looking over the summer: head tilted to the side, lips parted, like he'd never seen anything quite like her in his life.

Michonne's stomach turned. When the warning bell for class rang, she nearly exclaimed in relief.

"Thank you," Rick mumbled out. "I'll return it."

"No rush," Michonne assured him. "Just give it back whenever." She nodded twice more, feeling like half an idiot. "See you around, Grimes."

"See you, Michonne," he smiled, but Michonne couldn't see it. She was too busy rushing back towards her friends, trying to ignore the racing of her heart.

"What was that?" Andrea asked, smirking.

"Nothing," Michonne answered too quickly. "Math's next right?"

"Right," Sasha answered, a knowing expression on her face that Michonne didn't care for at all.

"Let's go," Michonne said, hurrying off, leaving Rick behind her.

-l-l-l-l-

_**11 months later…** _

"Michonne!" her mother's voice carried from the front yard and into the living room. "There's something in the mail for you!"

Michonne took the front porch stairs two at a time, skirt fluttering around her legs. Her mom was positioned at the box, holding a cream-colored envelope aloft.

"It's from your little boyfriend," she said, fanning herself dramatically. "Do I need to screen this? Is this going to be like the time we caught you on the porch swing?"

The memory was enough to heat Michonne's skin more than the sweltering weather. "Mom, no," she said. "I'm sure it's just…"

Her mother burst out laughing, handing the letter over. "Here," she said. "It's sweet that he wrote to you. I like him."

Michonne smiled, pleased. "I won't tell Dad," she joked.

Her mother winked, "Your dad likes him too," she disclosed with a whisper. She began to walk off. "Don't take too long pining over him. You need to finish packing."

Michonne settled on the porch swing, eagerly thumbing the envelope open. She unfolded a few sheets of lined notebook paper, the edges trimmed neatly to disguise the fact that they'd been torn away from the spiral ring.

_Hey baby,_

_Sorry about that phone call. My team is full of idiots, but they're pretty decent guys. In the interest of not getting catcalled while we talk, letters might be better for now._

_I was unpacking the other day, and I realized I never gave you back your notebook. You got me through a year of Horvath, baby, without even knowing what you did. Thank God you have good handwriting._

_I figured it's only fair since I kept this and you helped me pass that class, that I show you what I learned. And since History ain't the most romantic subject on Earth, I'm going to borrow from Mrs. Monroe (and ee Cummings)._

_**i carry your heart with me(i carry it in** _

_**my heart)i am never without it(anywhere** _

_**i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done** _

_**by only me is your doing,my darling)** _

_Love you baby. I'll see you real soon. Maybe I'll give you your notebook back then._

_Love,_

_Rick_

_PS: Guess where these pages are from?_

Michonne read it twice through, laughing before carefully folding it and tucking it away. She went inside, bare feet sticking to the hardwood floors, a smile on her face.

"Good letter?" her mom asked knowingly, passing over a stack of clothing to be packed.

"Yeah," Michonne smiled. "The best."


End file.
